Serpent Tongue
by Phoenixmirage
Summary: An age-old prophecy involving the Founders coming to fulfillment... The Hogwarts Four awakens, reincarnated in their Heirs. A most ironic twist of fate awaits a First Year Harry Potter. Salazar Slytherin as Harry Potter.
1. Prologue: Nightmare

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter. It is the property of Ms. J.K. Rowling.

* * *

**Prologue:** Nightmare

...as soon as they broke down the old cabin door, Godric Gryffindor immediately regretted charging in.

The two women, not too far behind him, entered the room.

Helga's hands instantly flew to her mouth, stifling the coming scream. But will won over instinct and she instead sobs softly, dropping to her knees as the strength to stand fled her. Rowena, standing beside her, quietly draws up the hood of her robe and with grave solemnity, kneels by the other witch's side, placing a steadying, consoling hand upon gentle Helga's trembling shoulder...

Godric bowed his head, ignoring the faintly tickling irritation as stray strands of his flame-red hair brushed against his cheek.

His golden eyes surveyed the scene sadly.

Here was an upturned cauldron, long emptied of its contents... The ancient smell of dust and mold prevalent throughout the small room. There, his sharp vision could make out cobwebs in the filthy corners, tiny spiders scurrying about in all directions ever since the first sign of intruders. But that was not what had horrified them so: this sorry cabin for a dwelling was one matter. Rather, what had been the gruesome finishing touch to this nightmarish scene was a rotting skeleton in squalid dark robes, most flesh long having become the food of maggots, leaning upright in its seat against the wall. There were a few remaining strands of once rich, dark hair protruding almost rudely from the whiteness of the skull.

As Godric drew closer to the corpse, he noticed how the worms scattered, disrupted from their feeding, alerted to a living presence. Angrily, he crushes the heel of his boot viciously down on one as it fled, grinding it into the rotting wood of the floor...

_The unseeing, gaping eyes of the corpse bore accusingly into his own._

Wincing, he averted his gaze. Embedded in an odd pattern on both the rotting boards of the floor and the wall that supported the corpse were several throwing knives.

_His blades, his favorite..._

Godric quickly shakes the thought away.

Bending low, he pulls strongly on the silver-inlaid handle of one, freeing the dagger from the ground. There was something dried and dark caked all over the blade, tarnishing it. Gingerly, he presses a finger against the substance. What met his touch cracks and crumbles into nothingness but the tall-tale hints of the same substance, which now clings to his fingertip, had mixed with his sweat, turning faintly crimson.

Suspicious, and suddenly filled with terrible dread, he slowly brings the blade itself up towards his nose. The distinctive scent of dried blood and ancient, tall-tale traces of poison tells him everything that the corpse could not.

The dagger falls from his hands.

_Salazar Slytherin had committed suicide._

Too late they had come.


	2. Chapter 1: Half Wake

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter. It is the property of Ms. J.K. Rowling.

* * *

**Chapter 1:** Half Wake

_He wakes in a cold sweat._

The over-sized apparel that he was wearing was completely drenched to the barest threading by sweat. Harry Potter sits up, fumbling in the dark for his glasses. He found them easily enough by their thin wiry frame and shoving them on, he fumbled blindly now for the light.

_There wasn't much space to cover._

His fingers locate the string. With a soft 'click' as he pulled, the bulb flicks on.

A sudden barrage of footsteps raced down from upstairs, drawing closer, seemingly straight onto the ceiling of the small space. A gruffly high voice (which the boy would recognize instantly as his cousin's, Dudley Dursley) broke the brief interim of silence, before without warning, a rain of dust steadily showered down with the repeated, heavy thumps.

"COUSIN, WAKE UP!" Hollered his cousin. "We're going to the zoo!"

He sighed, wishing Dudley would grow bored from jumping on the steps more swiftly.

Why would he even want to visit the zoo? But today was Dudley's 'special day'...any 'smart remarks' from him, the unwelcome bane of the family, would not be overlooked...not that anything he says were usually tolerated anyways. Slowly, he pushes at the squeaky door of the cupboard, only to be unceremoniously shoved back in as Dudley raced by.

He decided it was better to wait.

_All routine._

He didn't have to wait too long...

"Good morning, Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia..."

The customary greeting quietly left his lips as he enters the kitchen. Breakfast was there, waiting to be cooked...

Without any further words, he makes his way to the stove. He pours a bit of oil into the pan and after dropping the meat in, adjusted the temperature before amusing himself with watching how the raw bacon strips sizzled in the heat, gradually turning red...

"Don't you _dare_ burn anything." Hissed his aunt, as she passes by him.

He ignored her.

Towards Dudley, her voice almost immediately became sickeningly sweet, cooing as she cradled her whale of a son's fleshy cheeks in the bony palms of her hands.

"I want everything to be perfect for my Dud-ley's special day..."

Unfortunately for her, an ensuing exchange left Dudley throwing a tantrum again. His cousin was displeased at the discovery that his pile of presents were two fewer in number than the previous year's.

_Prat. _Thought Harry, before flipping the bacon in the pan.

When they were all finally seated, Dudley spoke up.

"Harry's having nightmares _again_, mum." Said the boy, flashing a toothy grin at his cousin before he resumed wolfing down his breakfast.

At Uncle Vernon's quirked eyebrow, Harry spoke quickly.

"The usual." He murmurs. "I dreamt-..."

"Motor bikes don't fly, boy." Snarls his uncle, cutting him short.

_...but that wasn't what he had dreamt about. Not tonight.  
_

"No..." He says slowly. "Not this time... There was a castle...Norman, I think. It was on a hill, overlooking a lake. I thought...I thought I saw people in the black waters, too..."

Both his aunt and uncle stared. For several unpleasantly long moments, Petunia's thin mouth hung in an open half-gasp - a perfect little 'O' - but the surprise disappeared as quickly as it had come. Now, she just looked grim, her lips pursed tightly and what little neck she had becoming just slightly more visible above the collar-line of her dress.

"Just a...dream..." She mutters finally.

"Just a dream..." Her husband hollowly echoed her.

That wasn't _all_ though.

The boy could not describe the _excitement_ that had flooded his veins: he knew the castle, somehow...the numerous rooms, the staircases that moved on their own accord...a grand hall, decorated in tapestried shields and their affiliated colors...a high domed ceiling that depicted the night sky...no, _changed_ with the night sky. And creatures of myth, like the proud half man, half horse race residing in the great forest that embraced the land, with bows slung at their sides and sharp spears in their hands.

But most of all...it was the _longing_ that had lingered. No clear faces were in the dreams, only the forms of passing silhouettes. Yet he recalled the ghostly brush of the lace decorating the silken sleeve of a medieval dress, a flicker of yellow, and fire-red hair...laughing, amber-gold eyes and of the breeze playing with long locks of black hair darker than the raven's feathers...

All of that was...it felt _real_.

_Too_ real.

_But...that wasn't what was terrifying._

With the longing...there was a hollowing, burning feeling just as strong as the...could it be called love...? _And sadness, with the longing._ Deep, aching sadness, that seemed to fill every corner of his soul, flooding into every chamber of his body: particularly whenever _those_ shades haunted his dreams. Nothing was very clear, but the dreams always ended in a blur, till burning poison fills his veins... Yet the only feeling that fills his soul was _relief_...the ghostly pain vanishes, welcoming in the blissful darkness...

He did not know why, or how...yet he somehow...he just _knew_.

It wasn't murder.

_He_ had done that.

But Harry spoke nothing of it. After all, it wasn't normal for people to dream of their deaths, let alone killing themselves, right? His life with his aunt and uncle wasn't exactly _that_ bad to drive him any time soon to the point of suicide... And that was beside the point, too. Knives do not float on their own, nor do stairs change on their own whims, and centaurs and siren merpeople were merely creatures of the books...

* * *

Later at the zoo, his attention had drifted again. Dudley was not far off, with his aunt and uncle, banging on the glass of a particular display while demanding the sleeping boa constrictor inside to move. Harry watched the one-sided exchange, impassive, feeling rather sorry for the boa constrictor...until finally Dudley impetuously stomped off to another display to bother some other animal.

_...must be troublesome, isn't it...?_ He found himself whispering to the sleeping snake. _Day after day, having people come in..._

_I get that all the time. _Came the amused reply.

Harry stared.

The sleeping snake uncoiled itself, steadily rousing. And now, it was watching him as if he was a charmer with a flute: the boa constrictor even swayed gently from side to side as it raised its slender body from its coils...

_Can you... _He began hesitantly, feeling rather silly. _You can...understand me...?_

A nod of confirmation came from the snake.

He holds his breath.

_Breath in, Harry._ He tells himself._ Breath out._

When he was calm again, and wonder overtook surprise, he hesitantly asks of the serpent:

_So, um...you are...from Brazil...? What is it like there?  
_

The boa constrictor lightly shakes its head, before turning slightly in a certain direction... Curious, Harry followed the serpent's line of sight.

This specimen was bred in the zoo.

_Oh._

He regarded the serpent sadly.

_You and I...are the same, hunh... __Wouldn't you like to see Brazil, now...?_

Before the snake could respond, with an unceremonious TH-UMP, Harry found himself sprawled on the cold marble floor. Dudley, in his haste to see the "now moving snake" had roughly shoved him aside. Slowly, the boy sat up, relieved to discover nothing too major hurts...but his eyes narrowed.

With a yelp, Dudley fell through the glass and straight into the artificial pool of the miniature habitat. Dudley watched, in fascination and perhaps paralyzed in place partly out of terror, as the boa constrictor now dropped onto the floor of the gallery and headed for the doorway. Terrified screams filled the gallery. Dudley, realizing that he could not stay in his current position, stood up, ankle-deep in water, only to realize that he was trapped. The glass that had seemingly vanished into thin air had _returned_. He began howling now, screaming for his parents.

Harry felt a cold smile creeping up his lips, as his aunt and uncle hurried to their son, equally panicked. It was always Dudders this, and Dudders that...if _he_ had been in a life or death situation, they would certainly not care...so...

_...they could bleed for all he cared. _

The glass shattered, raining sharply dangerous shards all over Dudley and those outside whom were standing in close proximity to the glass.

Harry, wide-eyed and terribly pale, watched as three bloodied bodies, with multiple _thu-mps_, sank in their respective places.

_He had wished for them to get hurt._

And it had come _true_.

If the snake had terrified the onlookers before, it was nothing compared to their terror at _this_ sight. But their screams were deaf to his ears.

And Harry...Harry did what he could...

_He ran._


	3. Chapter 2: Illusion

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter is the property of Ms. J.K. Rowling.

* * *

**Chapter 2:** Illusion

Albus Dumbledore sat in his office with all the laid-back nonchalance in the world as, from his desk, he slipped out and propped open a box of lemon drops. He took up a piece, but the candy never quite reached its intended destination, because the fireplace suddenly flared with emerald fire and a certain man with a lime-green bowling hat strode out, an accompanying witch to his side.

"...to what do I owe this pleasant visit, Minister?" Inquired the Headmaster, peering at Fudge through half-moon spectacles, lemon drop still in hand, deftly balanced between a thumb and middle finger. Fudge did not return the greeting with immediacy, so Dumbledore just proceeded to pop the treat into his mouth.

"That boy is a menace!" Snarled the Minister at length and striding up to Dumbledore's desk, he took a seat without invitation. At Dumbledore's questioning look, Fudge gave a hard stare at the Headmaster. "You know perfectly well who I speak of, Dumbledore." Deadpanned the Minister.

"...I am afraid I do not, Minister...?"

Fudge colored slightly.

"Headmaster!" He barked. "Harry Potter has utilized magic to severely injure several muggles! Undercover Ministry workers only managed to get them to Saint Mungo's in the nick of time!"

"I am certain it was merely a case of accidental magic."

"Accidental magic?" The Minister's tone grew shrill. "Dumbledore, _no_ muggle doctor would've been able to otherwise treat all those injuries! A hundred and six fragments of glass in the boy's uncle alone! And the...the targets were his own _family_! Clearly, the result of a demented mind!" The Minister had stood up by now, palms angrily colliding with Dumbledore's desk to emphasize his point. But seeming to realize that such behavior was unseemly, Fudge stopped, took a big breath of air, before with a slightly calmer tone, the Minister continued.

"At this age...to imagine such control of magic. Albus, those three muggles were the _only_ targets, I assure you. No other near that glass got injured...received the shock of their lives, perhaps, but unharmed - _not even a scratch!_ - in fact, Miss Bones here can testify!"

The witch accompanying the Minister spoke up for the first time.

"Headmaster...I took my niece, Susan, to the zoo that very day. We were in the reptile house of London zoo, in the serpent exhibit. By chance, we saw young Mister Potter with his family, in front of a Brazilian boa constrictor's display. The cousin assaulted Mister Potter first." She paused, before continuing more softly. "...there had been prior cases of accidental magic with half-blood children reacting with such anger...but..._this_..."

_Could it even be called "accidental" magic?_

Every trace...every timbre in that spell's weaving was heavily _tainted _with _hatred_. In fact...if the rules regarding magic are to be taken in a broader perspective...in such a case, with this particular young wizarding child...

_Dark magic?_

"No fragment of glass had touched any other beyond those three muggles. Shards drew close to my niece, but swifter than I could cast the Shield Charm, the fragments simply dropped to the ground..."

As if some invisible barrier prevented the glass from harming any other than the..._intended_ targets.

A long moment passed. The Headmaster seemed to contemplate what he had been told.

"Minister, Miss Bones." Said Dumbledore finally. "It is by far too early to suggest such things."

"Precisely!" Snapped Fudge. "Harming people already at his age, muggle or not is hardly the point! And with surviving He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's-..."

Dumbledore cut him off sharply. "Or is _that_ the problem?" Inquired the Headmaster coldly, his bright blue eyes no longer twinkling.

The Minister opened and closed his mouth, apparently unable to come up with a proper retort. So Dumbledore, pressing his fortune in ending this late-night visit early, continued. "I do believe we are speaking of a child who has _never set foot_ on Hogwarts. If, however, that is the intended purpose of this visit, then, my dear Minister, such a request I am afraid I must decline."

Fudge's face colored.

"You made the mistake before, Dumbledore." Said the Minister, at length. "And if it's repeated...?"

Dumbledore met the Fudge's gaze evenly.

"It will not."

"Can you truly promise that?"

* * *

Slowly, emerald eyes opened, dark pupils contracting due to the sudden intake of light. Harry awoke rudely, startled to discover that he was..._sleeping in a bed_...? A crop of a red gold something shifted in his line of vision. At this, he fumbled for his glasses and now that his vision cleared, he saw that the red-gold blur was actually hair belonging to a boy who at least looked about his age, bright blue eyes peering intently back at him.

_They should be gold... _Harry thought faintly, before noticing the light dust of reddish freckles on the other boy's pale cheeks. The redhead looked surprised at first but then a large smile broke over his features. Running to the door, the boy pulled it open before...

"MUM! MUM!" Hollered the boy. "He's awake!"

Footsteps seemed to rush up, drawing closer... _So they were upstairs. _Harry faintly registered. But it wasn't just the boy's mother who came, two older boys (here Harry distantly noted they all had the same flame-red hair) were by her side. _Twins._ The middle-aged woman moved close to the bed-side, scolding her youngest son for "disturbing the poor child" before she herself fussed over Harry.

"Harry dear, come now... Let's get you downstairs for a spot of breakfast."

_Breakfast?_

It had been about noon when he went to the London zoo with the Dursleys. Hesitantly, Harry looked at her, uncertain.

"I..."

Somehow, he had found his voice after the initial shock but he wasn't sure how to phrase this politely.

"...but, I...where am I...?"

And then, realizing even greater implications, he stared at the red-haired woman. She had called him _by name_.

"My apologies, but...my name..._how_...?" He hadn't recalled ever giving out his name to strangers! His eyes must have gotten fearfully wide, because the kindly woman asked him now if he was feeling all right.

_All right?_

His mind raced. She had children of her own. So that sort of ruled out kidnappers. Besides, he was pretty sure the Dursleys would not ransom for him if that ever-... _The Dursleys! _The incident in the reptile house quickly caught up with his memory and now panicking, Harry had darted back too quickly, away from this woman, and hit his head on the bed's headboard. _Hard._ With a yelp of pain, he gingerly cradled the back of his stinging skull with the palms of his hands.

"Careful, dear!" Said the woman, but before she could reach for Harry again, one of the twins spoke up.

"Mum, I think you should explain things to him first." To Harry, this one gave a little wave. "I'm Fred, and this is my brother George." He stopped to gesture at his twin. "That's Ronald there, our little brother, and this is our mum. Ginny our sister is out with dad."

"Fred is right." Piped up the other twin. "By Merlin, he thinks we are kidnappers, if I'm not mistaken."

Harry regarded the two with wide eyes. "Explain?" But the rest of his words came out harshly. "I know that I am a freak, there's no reason to-..."

The woman looked astonished. "Freak? Goodness, is that what those muggles have been telling you?"

"Mug-_what_?"

"Non-magical folk." Said the twin called George. "Blimey...a wizard not knowing that..."

"Wizards don't exist." Replied Harry. "Is this some sort of a hoax?"

But..._what if_...?

**They do.**

...

Harry blinked.

_What?_

...

**They do exist.**

_Again...this..._

"Ehm...don't exist?" Muttered George, turning to his twin. "And he says it with such confidence too. Is it just me, Fred, or have we all been terribly slighted...?"

"You are a couple of months short of Halloween." Continued Harry, ignoring the comments, and ignoring his subconscious that insisted on defying logic too. "...aren't you a bit too old to be cosplaying wizards?"

"But...you're Harry Potter!" Blurted out the youngest boy.

Harry gave the youngest a confused stare. "...and, so...?"

"You have the...the scar!"

Harry was regarding Ron now with a look that somewhat bordered disbelief, incredulity, and utmost confusion. "You mean this one that I got from the car crash...?" He muttered, pressing his dark bangs back to reveal the lightning-shaped cut.

"Car crash!" Spluttered the boys' mother, indignant. "What lies have they fed you!"

_None of this was making any sense._

"...so...how _did_ I get here...?" Mumbled Harry, hoping at least to get one question answered properly...

Ignoring their mother's rant, Fred approached Harry. "We were heading to the London zoo. A friend invited us, but we were running late. Our family found you passed out on the road." He paused. "It took a Persuasion Charm to get the policemen whom came and were going to take you away going, but, anyhow..."

Here, Fred looked impressed.

His twin brother filled in instead.

"We heard the story! That would've been some wicked magic to see." Said George, grinning widely. "Quite a number you did on those muggles, to have them be sent to St. Mungo's. Course _that's_ not good...eh...but if they have been starving and lying to you, I say they had it coming!"

And then, George added."Anyways, if that's _accidental_...then, I cannot wait to see what duelist of sorts you'll be in a couple of years."

"But magic doesn't exist..." Protested Harry. His arguments grew weaker now...as strange as it was, this odd family's version of the story...it actually made _more_ sense by the moment...

"Sure it does." Cut in their mother. "Have you ever made anything else happen, like when you were angry or scared...?"

Harry fell quiet. There was that time when Aunt Petunia tried shaving his hair, claiming it was his fault because he was too lazy to keep it neat. That was not true, he had angrily thought, it wasn't his fault that his hair grew that way...somehow he managed to regrow his hair within that very night. For that stunt, beyond meals, he had been locked in his cupboard for three days straight. Dudley's hand-me-down's, shrinking magically to fit him perfectly...but Aunt Petunia had fortunately blamed it on the wash. But the incident in the zoo...injuring his aunt, his uncle and cousin...speaking to the serpent, the vanishing glass and making it return...and...the explosion...

He paled.

Having the police come after you for murder was one thing, but now the wizarding police too...?

"I'm sorry." Whispered the child brokenly. He held out his thin wrists to the kindly woman. "You don't have to force yourself."

He paused.

"You are from the wizarding police aren't you...?"

To his surprise, the woman only scoffed and gently ruffled his hair.

"Police? Goodness no, child." She drew the boy into a warm embrace. "Your family are all right. They were taken to wizard healers, so they will be fine. Their memories will be modified." As Harry opened his mouth to protest, she cut him off again. "Now now..." She continued, her tone stern. "It's perfectly normal to feel angry for being mistreated. But the matter stands that they are fine."

She paused. "Anyways, very soon, your letter would come!"

_Letter?_

Though there were still many, many more questions...somewhat more comfortable now, after a long moment, the child mumbled.

"But...the Dursleys...? I don't..."

Even if they would not remember the incident..._he_ remembered. He didn't _want_ to go back.

"Why, you can always stay with us! Goodness, why hadn't Professor Dumbledore done otherwise from the start...? These muggles sound absolutely dreadful..." Her voice trailed off, not that Harry understood much of her mutterings, until she shot a glare at her sons for not reminding her of formalities. "Harry dear, it's Molly, but you may call me 'mum' if you wish."

A crimson blush instantly colored the boy's pale cheeks.

"Hah! Look! Quick, Fred, the camera!"

"STOP." Demanded Molly, with a short glare at George. "You are making poor Harry uncomfortable!"

"But mum! It's _Harry Potter_!"

"I don't care!"

As the mother bickered with her twins, Harry smiled softly to himself, drawing his knees closer to his stomach. _Warm. _This place was warm...like a real home, instead of the cold building, the small cupboard, and weathering the condescension of his "family" from day to day. That had been what defined "home"...but Harry wasn't sure if the Dursleys ever even thought of him as family.

The youngest seemed to have gathered the courage to approach him again and gave Harry a shyly hesitant smile. "It's not much..." Began the boy, a little hesitant.

Ron extended a hand.

"...but welcome to the Weasley family. Come'on, let's go eat!"


	4. Chapter 3: Letters

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter is the property of Ms. J.K. Rowling.

* * *

**Chapter 3:** Letters

It may have been weeks later into the summer but true to Molly's word, the letters from Hogwarts arrived. There were five: two for the twins and one for the currently eldest boy in the house, Percy, while there were two acceptance letters requesting First year supplies for Ron and Harry (Ron had opened his letter first with Harry by his side as the owls had come during breakfast, hence Harry already knew of its contents).

The first few lines of Harry's envelope read like this:

_Mr. H. Potter_

_Guest Bedroom_

_The Burrow_

He supposed he should not be surprised that his letter was addressed to the Burrow, though he was rather surprised that above the line with the address, written in emerald ink, were the words 'Guest Bedroom'. As if the sender was almost _reminding_ him that... He shook his head, brushing aside the thought, as he opened his letter. Maybe he was just unused to the whole idea of the magical community knowing _exactly_ how to track the whereabouts of underage wizards...

Something glittering that caught his eye fell out.

He reached down to pick it up from the ground. It was an ornate key of antique design: gold possibly, or a similar metal. How curious... Ron's certainly did not produce a key.

He pulled out the letter and peered into the envelope. There was a note along with the acceptance letter.

_Keep the key safe. To use, ask Mr. or Mrs. Weasley._

Those were the only words on the piece of parchment, and it was in a much different handwriting than that of the Deputy-...

Wait.

_His acceptance letter was in the same handwriting?_

Harry's eyes quickly scanned the signature. _Albus Dumbledore._ Why was his letter...why was his personally written by the Headmaster...? He did not have much time to wonder, as heavy knocking came from the door. Molly rushed to open it and Ron gave a yelp of surprise when the visitor stepped into the dining room: a giant of a man bearing a pink umbrella by his side. However, what caught Harry's attention wasn't the giant: soaring elegantly through the open window were two more owls, one tawny and the other with darker plumage, and they both dropped a letter each neatly onto his lap. Not waiting around for him to open them, the owls disappeared just as quickly as they had come, swooping out of the window.

He stared at the three letters. Firstly, there was the one from Hogwarts...then there were...

"Durmstrang?"

He opened it.

He scanned a few lines. This letter...it wanted him to become an exchange student in Russia...? And the other letter...

"...Beauxbatons? Huh... But I thought...?" The rest of the words died on his lips, as Harry noticed their guest. Quickly getting up, Harry gave the man a polite bow. Even though Molly had insisted it was not necessary, all the years the Dursleys spent beating respect into him had certainly left a mark.

Hagrid looked furious. "I tol' Professor Dumbledore dat dis would 'appen!"

The giant looked at him, clearly distressed. "...'arry, yer going ter stay in England, righ'...?"

"Of course." The boy regarded the giant oddly. "Why would I even want to go to Russia...or..." He quickly scanned the other letter again. "...to France...?"

The giant looked much happier and began rambling...something about not seeing him since he was a baby...

Even more hesitantly, Harry begun, rather averse to interrupting the giant's happy monologue.

"Um...but, sir..._how_...?"

_Did this man know his parents?_

"You...knew me since I was a baby...? Then, my parents...?"

The giant's expression darkened and a tearful sob filled the dining room. Panicking, Harry handed over his handkerchief. "...er, sir...sorry... I didn't mean to-..."

"It's all righ'." Muttered the giant, dabbing at the corners of his eyes.

Fortunately, Molly chose that moment to reenter the dining room.

"Harry," she introduced, "this is Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Harry stared.

Was...

...was this an underhanded attempt to convince him directly not to attend another school...?

"Was it true?" Seeing the giant's questioning look at his change in tone, Harry dared to continue, taking an instinctive step backwards now. "Did you really know my parents...or...?"

He glanced at the other letters in his hands.

"Harry!" Said Molly, her tone reproachful.

"I don't understand... I'm told nothing, yet I know something is...expected of me..."

Glittering emerald eyes settled calmly, boring into Hagrid's dark orbs.

"If friends of my parents were alive...then, _why_...?"

_Why was he left with the Dursleys? For ten miserable years?  
_

Hagrid only gave a loud sob at this, murmuring incoherent apologies.

"This person...this Dumbledore..." Harry settled his gaze on Ron. "Why did he write to me, but Ron's letter came from the Deputy Head Mistress...?"

He looked to Hagrid again.

"Dumbledore wishes to use me, correct? I am told nothing, yet, he still wishes for a pawn-..."

"Dun! 'arry, dun talk 'bout 'im like dat!" The giant shook his umbrella at the boy.

"I want answers." Continued Harry, his tone growing cold. "Why is that wrong? I want answers, on what exactly have been going on these past ten years. Unless, this Dumbledore has other motives of-...!"

"HARRY!"

_Protego._

Perhaps it was Ron who had shouted his name. Or Molly. Or any other of the Weasley children at the table. Or perhaps it was all of them. A bolt of red light drew towards Harry with terrifying speed. It never struck him, however, as a shield instantly materialized, its sheer power nullifying the spell the instant contact was made. Molly and the twins had their wands out, but judging from the looks of surprise on their faces, they had not cast that Shielding Charm.

However, Harry was shaking with fury.

"DUN!" Sobbed Hagrid. "Dun speak of Dumbledore like dat..._dun_..."

_Stunning hex. _Rather harmless, but...

Wait. _How did he know that?_

Harry's tone was scornful. "Is this how Hogwarts welcome new students? By attacking them?"

_Burn._

The umbrella burst into flames and with a yelp, Hagrid was forced to utilize a water charm to douse the tongues of fire.

"Telling me nothing, yet expecting me to choose... _So what..._" Snapped Harry, as with an open flick of the palm, the knives on the table floated. There was a frightfully crimson tint in his green eyes, as he glared at the giant.

"So what right does the Headmaster have, _if_ I choose another school!"

A tight grip was on his arm.

"Harry..._stop_..." Came Ron's calm voice. "Hagrid's sorry, don't you see...?"

A long silence filled the room.

Hagrid was crying...murmuring incoherent apologies...

_Again..._

The knives clattered to the ground.

His knees felt weak and he sank to the ground.

_Again, he had done it. Tried to hurt someone._

No...he had _meant_ to hurt someone.

Was he...was he becoming like Dudley...? _A mere bully?_

"Muggles have these fairy tales." Whispered Harry, as Ron crouched by his side, gently patting him on the back. "But magic solves their problems..."

And then even more softly whispered, almost brokenly...

"So why can't magic do that for me...?"

"I'll attend Hogwarts..." He does not look at Hagrid.

_His defiance._

"But it's neither for Dumbledore nor you."

* * *

"Why would I do that?"

Harry turned his curiously emerald gaze towards Molly, as he helped her with the laundry.

"Well...you see, Hagrid is not supposed to use magic..."

He raised an eyebrow at this.

"I suspected as much."

At Molly's confused look, he continued. "He didn't have a wand."

The whole Weasley family, save for Ron and Ginny whom has yet to come of age, possessed wands.

"Did he...once attend Hogwarts?"

"Y...yes."

He paused. Maybe he had been a bit unkind to accuse this Dumbledore so early...after all, the Headmaster seemed to hold a rather close relationship with the giant...it made sense _why_, then, that Hagrid acted as he did...

"But he does not have a wand."

And Molly said Hagrid was not supposed to use magic.

"So he was punished."

Since Mrs. Weasley flinched so, he let the topic drop.

"The Ministry probably isn't very fond of me anyways." He said instead, with a short shrug.

_Not after what had happened to his aunt, uncle and cousin._

"But, even if they were, I would not sell Hagrid out."

_After all... He hated traitors most._

He left the Weasley mother for a long moment standing there.

And then, a relieved smile broke across her face.

* * *

By early afternoon, the fiasco during breakfast had mostly been forgotten. Or rather, not forgotten, as Percy was acting very cautiously around Harry, but the twins have resumed their usual friendly banter. The Weasley father, of course, was not with them, having been busy with work. So Molly was taking her children shopping for school supplies. She would be directly accompanying Harry and Ron. Ginny, whom Mrs. Weasley did not feel comfortable enough to leave alone at home, would be coming along. Percy and the twins were old enough to do their own shopping.

Harry stared at the list.

"Can we..._really_...get all of these in London?"

"Sure we can." Piped up Ron.

"If you know where to look." Answered Mrs. Weasley laughingly. "We won't be traveling by floo powder today, since Harry should familiarize with the way to the Leaky Cauldron."

"You can walk there?"

He didn't bother asking what was this 'Leaky Cauldron'. It was, as Harry soon enough found out, a suspicious looking inn located between a bookstore and a record shop. Confusion must have found its way to his face, for Molly spoke again, as Harry watched the muggles passing them on the streets.

"They can't see the inn." She explained.

So an alarm or security system of some...

_A ward._

...sort...?

He said nothing, and followed Mrs. Weasley closely. Perhaps it was normal...maybe additional knowledge was unlocked after receiving the letter...it _could_ be enchanted for all _he_ knew. Mrs. Weasley was talking to the innkeeper now, a man called Tom.

It was not just the innkeeper who jumped at the opportunity to "meet Harry Potter". He did not understand why...what was the reason for this _fame_...? But Ron gave his hand a reassuring squeeze and Harry, with a crooked smile of apology to the crowding adults, allowed the older boy to pull him out of the inn and towards the back.

"You all right?" Asked Ron.

"Yeah..." He managed.

Ron gave him an odd look. "You dislike it..."

"...I am rather used to being ignored." Replied Harry curtly.

Soon enough, Mrs. Weasley came out, with Ginny by her side.

"Let's go." She said.

_Go?_

But there was nothing before them but a brick wall.

Harry watched in fascination as Mrs. Weasley pulled out her wand and lightly tapped the wall, starting from a certain brick and in a particular pattern three times. _Counting three up and two across._ He kept this particular bit of information in his mind. The bricks began rearranging themselves, before forming a passageway.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley." Said Molly with a smile, waiting for Harry to pass through first.

The boy's eyes widened with clear delight. Wizards were walking the streets, at every corner, in their handsome, gleaming robes and tall hats, with wands in hand. Stores with special candy, for buying wands, stores for obtaining familiars...book stores, parlors for hair styling...

"Mum, mum! Can Ginny and I stay here for a bit!"

Ron was looking adoringly at a broom.

"Nimbus Two Thousand...?" Inquired Harry, drawing close.

"The fastest made!" Said Ron with a sagely nod, grinning from ear to ear with excitement. "I heard that all the international teams use these for Quidditch-..."

"Quidditch?"

"Oh!" It seemed to have hit the other that Harry was not all that familiar with the wizarding world.

"Remember the posters in my room, Harry?"

The younger boy nodded.

"It's a flying game. There are seven players: three Chasers, two Beaters, one Keeper, and..." There was an almost dramatic pause and Harry watched, looking oddly at Ron, as the older boy murmured dreamily. "...a SEEKER."

Before Harry could ask what was so special about a Seeker, Ron continued on. "Anyways. There are these three hoops. The Chasers work to get this red ball called the quaffle into these hoops, all the while making sure the enemy chasers don't snatch the quaffle from them. The Keeper...well the Keeper's job is to keep the enemy Chasers from scoring. Beaters...there are these nasty mean little things call Bludgers that goes after players from both teams, so the Beaters are in charge of batting those Bludgers to the other side."

Ron gestured to the broom in the window's display case. By the broom's side, was a model of this small, odd golden orb with wings.

"The Seeker searches for this Golden Snitch! It may seem easy, but that thing's bloody fast...the game ends only when the Seeker from either team captures the Snitch. The Seeker who captures the Snitch earns the team a hundred and fifty points."

Harry stared.

"So..._if_ the Snitch isn't captured..."

"Yep! The game continues. Shortest game ever lasted three and a half seconds, by the way."

He didn't want to ask Ron how long was the longest-lasting game.

They did not have much longer to discuss Quidditch, as Molly took Harry's hand, warned Ron and Ginny strictly to stay in the store, before heading off with Harry.

"I..." The boy's voice trailed off. "...I was wondering of how to pay for school supplies...and, well...I read there's a trust fund for...orphaned students..." He had borrowed one of the twins' copy of _Hogwarts, A History_.

Molly nodded. "You get seven years worth of galleons enough for second-hand supplies. You brought the key, right?"

Harry took out the key that was suspended on a chain around his neck. The one that had been sent with the letter.

"Yes. But why...?"

Was it that valuable?

"Keep it safe." Warned Molly strictly.

"Where are we going?"

"To Gringotts."

* * *

Gringotts turned out to be a colossal goblin-run wizard bank. Harry stopped, catching sight of a certain giant, and slipped away as Molly was still conversing with the goblin.

"Hagrid."

"...I need ter get You-Know-What in vault You-Know-...'_arry?_"

The boy looked at his shoes guiltily.

"I'm sorry."

The giant looked surprised.

"Wha' fer?"

"For...for burning your umbrella...for...getting mad..."

"Oh, 'arry, it waz nothin'." Laughed Hagrid, waving around his pink umbrella. There were no burn marks.

"Just a _reparo_, and good as new."

"...and..." Harry continued on, mumbling even more. "...about...Dumbledore..."

A heavy palm rested on his head, and for a moment, Harry winced and closed his eyes.

_He had expected Hagrid to hit him._

But the strike never came: the giant merely ruffled his hair, mussing up the dark locks even further.

"...'arry...look me n' the eye."

Reluctantly, the boy did as he was told.

"It's ok..." He began, swallowing hard. "...you...don't have to..."

"Yer forgiven."

"But-!"

"_I_ shoul' be sayin' sorry."

For losing his temper and attacking the child...for not being allowed to let this child know anything..._for_...

"...it was hard, those past years, wasn' it...?"

"That's not-...wah, wai-...!"

Hagrid had lifted him up, and allowed the child to sit on his shoulder. Fearful of falling, the boy instinctively wrapped his arm around what of Hagrid's great back his thin limb could encompass.

"Oh..." Hagrid returned to address the goblin again, apologizing profusely. But the goblin didn't seem to mind...so Hagrid inquired about Harry's vault as well.

"Harry, there you are!" Mrs. Weasley had rushed over, and Hagrid lifted Harry down as soon as the boy made move in Molly's direction.

"Don't go wandering off like that!" She scolded gently.

"...and does Mr. Potter have his key...?"

"Um..." Began Harry, reaching into his shirt and pulling out the chain around his neck. "This, right?"

Hagrid took the chain and brought it to the goblin's desk. After a moment of examination, the goblin deemed it was acceptable.

"Thank you, Bogrod." Said Hagrid, as the goblin officer called forth another goblin named Griphook to take them to the vaults.

"On official Hogwarts business." Explained Hagrid, with a slight nod at the Weasley mother.

"Well, would you take Harry to get his wand, Hagrid?" Asked Molly. "I have to pick up Ron and Ginny...pick up a cauldron from Pottidge's along the way."

After it was decided that they would meet at Madame Malkin's to buy robes for Harry before heading off to obtain books, Mrs. Weasley departed for the Quidditch store. That left Harry with Hagrid and the goblin.

The vaults turned out to be deep underground.

As the trolley they rode headed further down, Harry admired the meticulous tunnel work of goblins...so stable, they looked, carefully carved of solid stone rather than awkwardly forced with explosions, unlike the Muggle mines. They stopped at a particular vault, Hagrid gave up the lamp when the goblin requested it, and Harry in turn his key.

Harry looked oddly at Hagrid, at how...even though it was his vault, the goblin treated them so..._suspiciously_.

"Itz dat way." Explained Hagrid. "One has ter be mad ter try n' rob Gringotts...smart as goblins are, dey are not very friendly."

Well, that much Harry had surmised. For the goblins to be entrusted with such a monumental task...there had to be some other ideal defense mechanism in the building.

"Dere's no safer place in the world, 'cept at Hogwarts."

Harry blinked. A _school_ was safer than an apparently famous wizarding bank?

The vault door opened, revealing...

"Yer part of the fund's been added too."

"This is..." Breathed Harry. "...for me...?"

"Didn't think yer mum and dad would leave you nothing, did you?"

Harry took some of the gold (galleons as Hagrid explained) and some silver coins called sickles. When they were done, they headed for another vault. This one however had no key and when the door opened, instead of the grandiose treasures Harry was expecting behind it, on the ground, laid a grubby-looking little package.

Hagrid quickly pocketed it and chuckling nervously, he looked at Harry.

"Now now...dun go mentionin' dis to anyone, all righ'?"

Harry promised.

* * *

He had ended up going to the wand shop alone. Hagrid had headed off, saying he would be back. But now that his wand was paid for, he was standing in front of Ollivander's, patiently waiting for Hagrid. The wandmaker had been a rather queer man...Harry had barely flicked his way through a number of wands when Ollivander snatched them from him each time, claiming that each wand was not 'it'.

He was beginning to despair when with the last wand the shopkeeper suggested...

_There was a tinge of fire._

As if the wand _recognized_ him...and that their futures were entwined.

He understood parts of the wandmaker's mutterings. The fact that the phoenix who gave the core of his wand too gave another core. His hand gingerly touched his forehead at this, where the lightning-shaped cut was covered by dark bangs. The very brother to his own wand, that had given him his-...

"'arry!"

Harry turned towards the direction of the voice. Sure enough, Hagrid was there, holding a lovely snowy owl sleeping in a cage.

"Lil late though... But happy birthday."

_A...a present...? For him?  
_

"Happy birthday." Repeated Hagrid.

Tears must have found their way to his eyes, as the giant spoke again, with a soft smile.

"She's all yours."

"Thank you." Whispered the boy, rubbing at his eyes, before taking and holding the cage close.

_Hedwig._

He'll call her Hedwig.

* * *

The Weasleys arrived shortly after they did at Madame Malkin's. Molly had gotten a cauldron for Harry, but Ron...

"It's not fair." Grumbled Ron, as he looked longingly at Harry's new cauldron. "Why do I have to use Charlie's hand-me-down..."

"Mrs. Weasley, it's all right, I can get ano-..." Harry began, but was cut off quickly, for Molly looked furiously at her son, and then even more furiously at Harry, who realized his mistake a little too late even as he cringed beneath her withering glare. He had addressed her formally again and on top of that, he had dared suggest that he would willingly part with a fraction of his inheritance, trust fund included or not, to buy a second cauldron.

"Are you Harry Potter?" Harry's attention turned to the speaker: a platinum-blonde haired boy about his and Ron's age.

"Yes..."

Without waiting further, the other boy held out his hand. "Draco Malfoy. You wouldn't want to start hanging out with the wrong sort. Your parents were _our kind_, right? Look here though...blood traitors..." Here the boy sneered at the Weasleys, before with a very slight, contemptuous tilt of the head in Hagrid's direction. "...and half breeds..."

But he gave a polite nod to Harry. "I expect to be in Slytherin House."

The 'and you?' went unsaid.

Harry instantly decided he did not like this boy.

"Both my parents were wizards." Replied Harry coldly.

_As far as he knew, anyways._

He paused.

"House?"

"There are four, didn't you know? Slytherin's the best, naturally. Ravenclaws are just booksmart, and the rest are nothing. Of course, I would go home if sorted into Hufflepuff." Ron seemed to flare angrily when this boy said 'the rest are nothing' but Harry interrupted a potential fight by interjecting quickly.

"What makes you so certain Slytherin's the best?"

"My father tells me this." Replied Draco, his hand still extended. "I can help you around, you know."

Harry looked at the outstretched hand.

"Thanks but no thanks." He replied. And then, with a tiny smile, he added. "I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself."

Draco stumbled back, as if just having been hit. "But, you, to those muggles!"

"Look." Snapped Harry, his smile vanishing. "What happened with my...aunt and uncle...happened. I'm not exactly proud of it you know."

Ignoring Draco now, Harry allowed Madame Malkin to measure him.

* * *

When all their supplies were purchased, Harry and Hagrid sat down in the inn for lunch. Percy and the twins were still gone, so Molly had to go fetch them. Ron and Ginny went with her.

"Slytherin."

The other looked up, as Harry broke the silence.

"And Hufflepuff. What's...with the Houses?"

"Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin." Muttered Hagrid darkly.

Harry looked curiously at the giant. "Why?"

"There's no witch or wizard in Slytherin who hadn't turned dark." Came the reply.

"Dark?"

"First of all, Harry..." Explained Hagrid. "Not all wizards or witches are good. Some go bad."

"I know. Like the man who gave me the scar, right?"

"Who told you that?"

"Ollivander."

Hagrid looked furious with himself.

Harry folded his arms. "It's fine. Just tell me."

"Well..." Hagrid looked hesitant. "Years ago, one wizard went as bad as he could get."

"Let me guess...genocide, world domination, or both?"

"He killed yer mum and dad." Hagrid whispered. "But he couldn't kill one baby. Only the scar was left. _That's_ why yer famous..."

Hagrid paused.

"Because you are the Boy-Who-Lived."

Harry swallowed.

_Was that why Ollivander had a look of terror, apprehension, and almost _anticipated_ delight?_

At realizing that he and _that wizard_ held brother cores.

"What was his name?" Asked Harry. "This...dark wizard."

"We do not speak of his name." Hagrid murmured, a shudder running through his great body.

"Voldemort, right?"

"What!"

"Ollivander told me that, too."

"How...?"

"I asked." Came the simple answer.

Well, the wandmaker did refuse to initially. But Harry had weaseled it out of the elderly shopkeeper... There was definitely something about him that had terrified Ollivander...

"Hagrid?"

"Mn?"

"Was this Lord Voldemort...was he _there_ when you were at Hogwarts?"

That look on Hagrid's face spelled a certain 'yes'.

A smile graced Harry's lips, but there was no warmth or innocence there.

"I remind you of him, don't I?" His tone was grim.

Harry paused.

"Not just you, Hagrid, that wandmaker too... Is it my appearance? Or perhaps my magic?"

"That's not true..." Murmured the giant. "Harry...you look so much like your father..."

"But Hagrid...my father never used magic to hurt people, did he?"

His tone lowered.

"Ron's family are neither Slytherins nor Hufflepuffs."

So then, the last House...the one that Draco Malfoy had refused to even speak of...

_Something was wrong._

Something...between Slytherin and this last House...

Draco's scornful attitude...a boy from a family who had traditionally been part of that Slytherin House...and Ron and his family...

_Just what sort of blood feuding mess had he gotten himself into?_

"Both your parents were in Gryffindor." Assured Hagrid. "You see, that young Malfoy, because of..."

"I know." The further he thought of it, the more it made sense...

_Gryffindor and Slytherin hated each other._

His parents. Even sweet Ron's hostility towards Malfoy.

"...but...what..."

And suddenly, the thought terrified him.

"...what _if_ I am placed into Slytherin...?"

_Silence._

Hagrid could not find the words to answer.

And Harry sat in his dread.

Would Ron...and Molly..._hate_ him...?

Maybe he should've chosen to go to Russia or France after all.


	5. Chapter 4: Isolation

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter is the property of Ms. J.K. Rowling. This chapter has pieces of obvious content from the book.

* * *

**Chapter 4:** Isolation

Harry stared.

Somewhat distantly to his ears resounded Hedwig's impatient hoot.

"Come on, Harry." Prodded Molly encouragingly. "If you are nervous, just start off at a run."

He didn't seem to hear her. With every _tock_ completed by Molly's pocket watch, Harry only grew more nervous. Molly may be trying her best but...

_...but that didn't make the wall before him look any _less_ solid!_

After several long minutes of failing to convince Harry that it was all right to walk straight into the barrier, Molly turned helplessly to Percy. The eldest boy approached the barrier calmly, Harry keeping his eyes peeled. But then he blinked and...

_What on-..._

_Percy was gone!_

Molly turned to Harry. "Why don't you try now, dear?"

He must've honestly looked even more nervous, because one of the twins piped up.

"I'll go, mum."

Molly nodded appreciatively. "Thank you, Fred."

But the speaking twin only mock-scowled. "I'm not Fred-..."

"...I am!" Finished the other.

"I'm George."

"Honestly woman-..."

"...and you call yourself our mother...?"

Molly groaned and waved her hand impatiently. As George passed her, however...

"Just kidding!" Laughed the boy. "I _am_ Fred."

Swifter than Molly could reprimand him, Fred rushed past the barrier, with George following suit.

Harry stared, wide-eyed in surprise at the seemingly-solid-but-apparently-not brick wall as it absorbed the forms of the twins. He swallowed, stilling his grip tightly on the handle of his cart. Harry was sure he had gripped the metal hard enough for his knuckles to turn white but he pushed the trolley directly in front of the barrier anyways, and shutting his eyes tightly closed, Harry did as Molly had recommended: he broke into a speedy run and charged blindly – straight at the barrier.

_The expected crash never came._

It was a rather odd feeling, like running through a long hallway that seemingly never ended, and before he knew it, in the next moment, he had safely arrived on the other side. Certainly nothing Harry would've expected from a solitary brick wall that did not even seem that impressive in width... But now, on the other side, Harry admired the Hogwarts Express, as Ron appeared by his side, having crossed the barrier as well. They forfeited their trunks, allowing their things to be packed into the crimson train's storage compartment before the two headed off to find a compartment of their own for the journey.

Much later, Harry found himself dozing off, while Ron sitting opposite him was gazing out the window at the passing countryside. A lady with a trolley came by, and she inquired if the two wanted any snacks but before Ron could pull out his half-crushed sandwich and politely decline, Harry stopped the other with a pointed look, before courteously to the lady, claimed that they would take one order of every type of snacks that she had. She looked skeptical at first, but not just hers but even Ron's eyes seemed to bulge in their sockets when Harry pulled out a fistful of golden galleons from his pockets. Though Harry had already been introduced to some types of wizarding candy, Molly never really bought sweets on a regular basis. In the Weasley mother's book, it was simply expense that detracted from the more important matters.

_But Molly wasn't here to reprimand him, so this was fine._

Not feeling brave enough to try the every-flavored beans after the last fiasco (Harry had been unfortunate enough to get _magma_ flavor and after spitting the burning bean out, he had nearly drowned himself with goblet after goblets of water, to nurse the stinging burns on his tongue), the boy had solidly maintained his claim afterwards that Bertie Bott should be promptly sued for making such dangerous things that was in the reaching range of young children.

So Harry instead took up the box next to it. It _looked_ harmless enough.

"...Chocolate frogs...?" He mumbles, before turning the box over. "These...they don't happen to be _real_ frogs...?"

_Gross._

Ron shook his head between munches of some other sort of wizard candy.

"No. It's just a spell." Reassured the other. "Go on, open it. Each pack comes with a famous witch or wizard card."

But as soon as Harry opened the box, a blur of brown was all he saw.

"ARGGHHHHHHHH!"

The chocolate frog had landed straight on Harry's face, refusing to budge. Ron rushed to his aid, trying to both stop his friend from clawing at his own face and somehow figure out a way to extricate the stubborn piece of candy that was clearly loath to part from Harry. Its front legs clung to Harry's glasses like a lifeline and the rest of its body suctioned to his face. As Ron was pulling, a chocolate leg broke in his hand, and the poor boy looked flabbergasted before resuming attempting to rescue his friend.

The compartment door slid open.

"Hello? Have any one here seen a toad?"

_A girl's voice...?_ Thought Harry vaguely, even though he couldn't quite see the speaker.

"A boy named Neville lost one."

With a final angry wrench, Harry managed to free the frog from his face. Without hesitation, he marched to the open window and promptly discarded the now three-legged frog. With an indignant croak, it flew away into the countryside meadows. Ron looked regretfully at the window – a treat has just been discarded, after all – but Ron handed his friend a handkerchief, which Harry gratefully accepted and immediately proceeded to furiously (though unfortunately blindly) scrub his face in order to remove any residue traces of chocolate.

Finally, to the bushy-haired intruder of their compartment, Harry frowned.

"_No._"

There was no need for further words. His posture clearly demanded 'do you _see_ a toad?' as he dropped onto the cushioned seat with a huff. After all, the only thing distinctively four-legged that had previously been on the premises of the compartment was that stubborn piece of candy that attacked him. Apparently, the girl did not seem to receive the hint to leave, for she invited herself into the compartment.

Ron had gone over to Harry's side during the scuffle with the chocolate frog and now, the girl took the Weasley's former seat.

"Holy cricket." She said, after a long moment of observance. "You are Harry Potter! I read all about you in _Hogwarts, A History_. I'm Hermione Granger, by the way."

Ron looked somewhat sorry for Harry as annoyance crept onto his friend's features.

_He was only eleven._ Thought Harry, irritably. _Not a piece of ancient history to be studied about!_

"...thanks..." Somehow, he managed to rather grudgingly grit out the response in a calm semblance of courtesy.

The girl looked over to Ron. "And you are...?"

"Ron Weasley." Said Ron, between bites of his snack. He had chosen to resume eating sometime when the girl had attempted to initiate conversation with Harry.

"...pleasure."

But her slight grimace contradicted her words.

A squeak caught the three's attention, as they turned to look at Harry's discarded chocolate frog box. A fat, old rat was nibbling at the crumbs left at the bottom.

"That's Scabbers..." Muttered Ron. "Bit pathetic, isn't he..."

Harry honestly didn't know what to say.

"Just a little." He admitted, rather timidly.

"Oh yeah, Harry... Fred gave me this spell to turn him yellow." Ron looked at his friend. "Want to see?"

Harry seemed to be instantly interested, and so was the girl.

With that said, Ron pulled out an ancient wand and waving it, he started chanting:

_Sunshine, daises, butter mellow..._

_Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow!_

Ron ended with a sharp jab to the poor rat's gut. Scabbers let out an alarmed squeak as the spark from the wand slightly singed his fur.

"..."

"..."

"..."

But the rat was _far_ from yellow.

"Are you sure that's a _real_ spell?"

It was Hermione who broke the awkward silence, and for once, Harry actually felt a twinge of gratitude for her presence.

"Well, it's not very good, is it..." She continued on, pulling out her own wand. "I tried some of the simple spells, but they all worked for me." With a delicate swish, she pointed at Harry's glasses. "For example..._oculos trans crocinus_."

The frame of Harry's eyeglasses turned a hideous shade of yellow.

Taking them off, he looked pointedly at her, a delicate eyebrow raised.

"Thanks..."

Pulling out his own wand, he tapped his glasses lightly by their frame and muttered.

"_Reverto._"

With the damage repaired, he placed them on again as if nothing had happened.

Ron seemed crestfallen at the realization that he was the only one in the room who had failed to perform an actual spell, but the girl seemed pretty impressed.

Surprisingly, instead of staying longer, she went to the door, but stopped long enough to address the two boys.

"You two better change into robes. I expect we'll be there soon."

But she did not leave straightway.

"Oh, by the way..." Said the girl, as she addressed Harry. "A spot's still on your nose." She pointed at a place on her own nose. "Just right there."

Snatching up the handkerchief, Harry unhappily resumed his diligent scrubbing.

_Oh, to hell with chocolate frogs._

* * *

Eventually, the train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their way toward the door and out onto a tiny, dark platform. Harry shivered: the night air was cold, but his attentions were on a single lamp that came bobbing over the heads of the students, and he smiled to himself as his ears picked out the familiar voice before he even saw the face.

A beaming face towered over the sea of heads. Hagrid had come to pick them up.

"C'mon, follow me – any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!

Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side that Harry presumed it was bordered by thick trees here. Nobody spoke much, except for one boy, who kept sniffing occasionally.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud "Oooooh!"

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its brightly lit windows sparkling against the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers. At this grand sight, Harry stopped in wonder, and Ron had to hit him lightly on the arm to remind his friend to get on the move.

_To be living there...for the whole year...it was something like a dream...  
_

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. They were row boats: Harry and Ron were together, while the boat behind held Hermione and the boy who had been crying ever since they had left the train.

"Everyone in?" Shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself.

"Right then – FORWARD!"

And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead, which towered imposingly over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood. For their boat, Ron did the rowing, but after overcoming the initial excitement admiring the castle itself, Harry was looking around on the surface of the dark waters.

"Heads down!" Yelled Hagrid suddenly, when a giant something burst from the water, did a slight flip among the shadowy background of the night, before plunging back into the water, causing a torrential tidal wave. Most of the First years let out at a little yelp (or outright scream) of terror, while the rowers, wiser, hurried to maneuver out of the way and panic later. Ron, on the other hand, was panicking because whatever that was, it had gone plunging into the water _very_ close to _their_ boat, near effectively overturning their small rowboat with the great plume of water from its dive. Not wanting to end up in the water on their very first night at Hogwarts, Ron rowed – heroically.

Now that the initial danger had passed, Harry listened to his friend grumble about how their robes were still soaked...

But Harry did not mind the soggy robes, laughing with clear delight as he brushed back a strand of wet black hair that clung to his face. Ron's hair had flattened completely with that stunt, and...

"It...now _that_ was some squid!" Harry exclaimed.

"Blimey, that thing was huge!" Complained Ron. "I thought we wouldn't make it...!"

"Nice rowing there, hahaa!"

"Harry, that's not funny! I don't know how to swim! We could've died!"

"Don't worry, I don't either."

_...they were on a boat, very much like this one. He with his arms folded, a disapproving look on his face, as emerald eyes bore accusingly into nervous golden ones._

"_I'm telling you, Godric. If you interrupted me from my work for-..."_

"_Oh, come on. Patience. You'll...uh, see her very soon... Besides...a little sun now and then, umn...does you a lot of good, y'know? You wouldn't want to become as pale as a vampire, hahaa!"_

"_I think you had too much sun..." He had responded, in turn. "It may have fried your brain."_

"_Hey! In case you forgot, I _always_ win in chess!"_

"_About time you had _something_ to boast of..."_

"_What d'you mean by that!"_

"_Exactly meaning what I said..."_

_Godric pounced. In the brief scuffle that ensued, the boat had overturned, sending its occupants plunging straight into the waters._

"_You idiot!"_

"_You're the idiot!"_

"_Be a man, Godric – and when I'm done with you, don't go running to Helga!"_

"_Hah, who's running? And who said I'm going to be the one needing healing?"_

_However, even with all the threats of hexing the other to oblivion, in the end, the two wizards in the lake only settled for angrily struggling to get their fingers on the other's cheeks. When both had gotten a painful vicegrip on their mutually intended targets, that was when the surface of the water broke._

"_See! See, I told you she'll come! She's an ab-so-lute beauty isn't she!"_

"_..."_

_He had a different opinion, however._

"_You __**really**__ are a blockhead."_

"-arry...! Harry!"

He shook his head, in a daze, waking up again to the sight of red hair and to a clear view of his rowing companion, who held a worried look in his pale blue eyes.

"Are you all right!"

"Yeah..." Muttered Harry. "That was...well, strange..."

"What was...?"

"Never mind."

Ron crossed his arms.

"Harry...if you're not feeling well, you shouldn't push yourself."

"I'm fine...really Ron, you worry as much as Mrs. Weasley."

An orange-yellow eyebrow rose, but Ron pressed no further.

"Anyways...we're here. You missed the cliff's grotto route. I couldn't wake you up before then, since we were already behind..."

Ron attempted to cheer Harry up.

"Well, it was all dark. So you didn't miss much, mate. Just some moss on the cavern edges. Oh...and Hagrid helped clean us up. I managed to do the spell! He said we shouldn't go to the ceremony soaked from head to toe... Something about Professor McGonagall wouldn't approve."

Ron was right. Harry couldn't see much of anything. They were still in some sort of an underground harbor, and the way out was much harder: the students had to clamber out on a trial of rocks and pebbles. Hagrid, guiding the way, was doing fine...Harry vaguely wondered if this was all Hagrid's idea to have the new students come by boat and then through an underground passageway. Probably no one else had troubled themselves to test this path...since besides Malfoy's bodyguards, it would seem the other students were indeed having trouble.

"Oy, you there!" Called out Hagrid. "Is this your toad?"

Hagrid was checking the boats as people climbed out of them.

"Trevor!" Cried Hermione's companion (who now Harry realized was Neville, the one on whose behalf Hermione had originally came to their compartment for). So he had been upset because of his missing toad, all along the way: now, Neville, holding out his hands, waited to be blissfully reunited with his Trevor. With the toad found, the students clambered after Hagrid out of the passageway of rock, with Hagrid as the leader, for he was the one with the only source of light in this otherwise absolute darkness.

At last, they came onto the smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.

They walked up the long flight of stone stairs, crowding around the huge, oaken door.

"Everyone here?" Inquired Hagrid. "You there, still got your toad?"

With that said, Hagrid turned, and then, he raised a massive fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

* * *

The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern countenance and Harry's first thought was that this was not someone to carelessly cross.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

_Harry was rather sorry to see the giant go._

They followed her in.

The entrance hall alone was so big that it could have fit the whole of the Dursley's house in it. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches not unlike the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out its elegant stonework, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floor.

They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Harry could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right – the rest of the school must have already gathered – but Professor McGonagall showed the First years to a small, empty chamber beside the door. They crowded in; standing rather closely together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your House, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend free time in your House common room.

"The four Houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin..."

Harry swallowed nervously, doing his best to listen carefully. He already knew that much...

"...while any rule-breaking will lose House points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever House becomes yours."

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on Ron's smudged nose. That must have come from when they were eating earlier, on the train...ahhh, Harry knew those candy were dangerous if even the unexpected shower in their boat ride across the lake couldn't rid it. He nervously tried to flatten his hair, and prayed that there was no residue chocolate left clinging to his face.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."

She left the chamber.

"So...how exactly do they sort us into Houses?" He asked Ron, rather tentatively.

"Some sort of test, I think." Ron looked equally uncertain. "Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking..."

Harry felt his heart drop. A test? In front of the whole school? And he certainly hope Fred was joking too... He didn't know any magic yet – well, at least not really – but what on earth would he have to do? He definitely hadn't expected something like this the very moment they arrived. Hagrid certainly didn't mention anything of it. He looked around anxiously, and saw that everyone else looked terrified, too. No one was talking much except Hermione Granger, who was mumbling very quickly to herself about all the spells she'd learned and which one she might need. Harry pretended not to listen: he'd never been more nervous, never, not even when he had to take a school report home to the Dursleys which detailed that he'd gone too far in a prank and turned his teacher's wig blue...

So he kept his eyes fixated on the door. Any second now, the Professor would return, and lead him to his doom. That was when he nearly jumped a foot when several people behind him screamed.

"What the – ?"

He gasped. So did the others around him. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided gracefully about the room, in deep conversation, hardly noticing the First years. They seemed to be arguing. One of them, a fat little monk, was saying: "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance – "

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost – I say, what are you all doing here?"

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the First years.

Nobody answered.

"New students!" Said the Fat Friar, smiling around benevolently at them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"

At least some still had the courage to nod at this, at the very least.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" Said the Friar. "My old house, you know."

"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall instructed, "and follow me."

Somehow, Harry managed, with Ron following, and they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors leading into the Great Hall.

Almost immediately, he forgot much of his fear. He had never imagined such a strange and splendid place: thousands and thousands of candles were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were already seated. The tables were set with golden plates and goblets. At the other end of the hall, on an elevated platform, the faculty were seated. Harry turned his gaze there, and almost immediately regretted that, for he shivered slightly when he thought he was on the receiving end of the glare of a cold, black-eyed Professor...so he instead continued on his survey of the rest of the faculty, and finally, of the stately old man sitting on the throne: here, Harry could've sworn there was a wink directed at him, as the aged wizard reached up a hand to straighten half-moon spectacles.

_Ah...so that's the Headmaster?_

Eventually McGonagall came to a stop, before the raised platform where the faculty were seated. Silence fell in the hall: the older students' attentions remained completely on the First years now. In order to ease his nervousness and the watchful eyes of the living and the misty ghostly residents alike, Harry tore his gaze to the ceiling, admiring the velvety black covering dotted with stars. He looked back, overhearing Hermione tell another student about the enchanted ceiling. At this, he couldn't help but chuckle. It was meant to be that way, after all.

_Still a magnificent work, as always. She would be proud, to know that the enchantment lasted._

He shook his head.

_Such...an odd thought..._

Professor McGonagall quickly called for attention again and silently placed a four-legged stool down, on which sat an old hat frayed here and there in odd places. Harry frowned, at this: Aunt Petunia definitely wouldn't have allowed such a thing to stay in _her_ house. It was extremely dirty, too. So unimpressive was this hat that the First years stared with eyes widened in even greater shock when its brim tore open and it began to _sing_:

"_Oh you may not think me pretty, __  
__But don't judge on what you see, __  
__I'll eat myself if you can find __  
__A smarter hat than me. _

_You can keep your bowlers black, __  
__Your top hats sleek and tall, __  
__For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat __  
__And I can cap them all. _

_There's nothing hidden in your head __  
__The Sorting Hat can't see, __  
__So try me on and I will tell you __  
__Where you ought to be. _

_You might belong in Gryffindor, __  
__Where dwell the brave at heart, __  
__Their daring, nerve, and chivalry __  
__Set Gryffindors apart; _

_You might belong in Hufflepuff, __  
__Where they are just and loyal, __  
__Those patient Hufflepuffs are true __  
__And unafraid of toil; _

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw, __  
__if you've a ready mind, __  
__Where those of wit and learning, __  
__Will always find their kind; _

_Or perhaps in Slytherin __  
__You'll make your real friends, __  
__Those cunning folks use any means __  
__To achieve their ends. _

_So put me on! Don't be afraid! __  
__And don't get in a flap! __  
__You're in safe hands (though I have none) __  
__For I'm a Thinking Cap!_"

Professor McGonagall unrolled a piece of parchment and began to read out names.

And thus, the Sorting began.

Harry learned, quickly enough, that the list was _not_ in alphabetical order. So he waited, patiently (though perhaps more overcome with dread) as the students called before him were sorted, one by one. After the first Sorting, soon it became routine. A student was named, sorted, and the hall would burst into applause. Even Ron was sorted already – Gryffindor. When McGonagall finally called _his_ name, a hushed silence fell, then excited whisperings, and Harry could swear he saw even the Headmaster lean forward a little in his chair.

"Potter, Harry."

His feet felt like lead. Somehow, Harry managed to make his way to the stool without stumbling. Without another word, McGonagall dropped the hat on his head, and then...

A long silence came.

_What if the hat...doesn't answer...?_

Harry got this awful feeling unfolding in his stomach that he would just sit there and then, perhaps McGonagall would remove the hat, murmur that there was a mistake, and dismiss him home...

At last, a tiny voice sounded in his ear.

"Oh...!"

Encouraged by this, Harry began fervently wishing, with all his might.

_Not Slytherin, not Slytherin, please not Slytherin...anything but Slytherin..._

The Sorting Hat replied, sounding amused. "But, Slytherin would make you great, you know-..."

_It would not, it would not, it would-..._

"So better be..."

He didn't hear the hat's proclamation: not over the deafening roar. And Harry, not sure what was happening, stumbled out of the stool in a daze, and proceeded to head to the Gryffindor table, with the hat still on his head... They stared. That was until he was stopped by McGonagall, who placed a hand on his shoulder, and with a light shake of her head...her expression...was she...was she...feeling..._sorry_ for him...? In a panic, Harry tore his gaze to where Ron was seated: the youngest Weasley was remaining rooted to his chair, wide-eyed and horror-struck.

"Harry..." Whispered Professor McGonagall gently. "Here, Harry, this way..."

She was leading him...

...to Slytherin's table.

Ignoring its protests, he dropped the Sorting Hat unceremoniously onto the ground.

_He __**knew**__ he should've chosen one of those other schools._

"I'm sorry..." He murmured his apology to the Professor.

And then, he bolted.

Dumbledore stood up.

"SEVERUS!" Bellowed the old man.

**At this point, it didn't matter...not anymore.**

Whatever regarding him was being gossiped among the other students, Harry didn't care. But Harry certainly didn't want to stay and see the sure look of disappointment on Ron's face...

_He didn't get very far._

An arm snatched out for his hand, and held his wrist in a fierce vice grip.

"Boy..." Drawled the same teacher who had given him that unpleasant look earlier.

_So, it hadn't been his imagination._

"...so you think you could just reject my House...?"

_It wasn't his idea of initiation in Hogwarts. _Dragged by the arm by a teacher he had somehow offended already to a House table he didn't want...?

Life was definitely unfair.


End file.
